Readers,
Readers?
Ok....I know. It is has been a long, long time. I have a story that I would like to share. This story is in no way a sneaky method to bring you back. In fact, this story is a sneaky way for me to get back. I need to get back. And before you roll your eyes and assume I'm back because I'm in pain, I'm not! Ooooh if you don't know, you gon'learn today. I'm so good, that I can write, I can come back. Dearest Readers, I have a story. I am not an accomplished storyteller and as I want to come off like one, I am pretty sure that this, like anything other that comes from me, will sound like me.
A long, long time ago (though not so long to be an actual fairytale) a girl found a seed. It was a pretty decent seed. This girl, she was not a gardener, rather, she'd been around the garden a bit. She figured that by now, she would know the garden. She was wrong.
Anyway, she found this pretty decent seed. She saw something in the seed that inspired her. Perhaps the seed caused her to see something in herself. It depends on your perspective. She found this seed, or quite possibly the seed found her...again, perspective. She loved this seed. She loved it and it grew, or maybe they grew. She loved this seed so much, that she lost sight of some of the other pretty things in her garden. Some of those pretties started to change. The change was right in front of her! Seriously, right there. However, she was so taken by this seed, now a Pretty, (I've decided to call plants in this story "Pretties", author's rights, you know) that she lost sight of the pretties that had always been there. If you know anything about gardening, and I don't, not really, you know that a garden requires love. You must understand, she did not mean to give her very all to her Pretty, especially at the expense of all the other pretties. It happens though. It happens because it is real life. Which this story is not, or maybe..well...perspective. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
So while she and her Pretty were deeply, madly, inworldly and outworldly (Readers, please don't forget my love of author's rights) her other pretties were curling up and not in a cutesy way more like in a HELLLLLLOOOO CAN WE GET A LITTLE OF THAT GOOD STUFF OVER HERE? NO? UM, OOOOOOKKKKKAAAAAY. You know what I forgot to mention? I'm going to list it so you don't get too confused.
1. A girl found a seed, a pretty decent seed.
2. She gave the seed her all and it developed into a Pretty.
3. Pretties that were already there started to curl up in the most unfortunate ways.
New Development: 4. Not ALL of the pretties curled up, some grew, some grew beautifully, quite possibly in the same spirit as the girl and her pretty decent seed.
Do you follow? Good. Every story has a climax or a catalyst. In this case, let's use catalyst. This is not porn and as much as I know what climax means, I can't help but think porn. It's not you, it's me.
You must be waiting for the catalyst. One day something changed. Something changed and it started to slowing change the girl and her pretty decent Pretty. I don't really know what it was, the weather, perhaps? Something changed. To be fair, The Universe changed. Not the entire Universe, just the bit around the girl and her pretty decent Pretty. Oh the girl was upset. Actually, she denied what was going on, she tried to be blind to what was happening right in front of her. I mean, I told you that some of the other pretties were curling up in the most unfortunate ways. You would think she would see the Change for what it was, a change. Oh no, not this girl. She was doing so good. She SAW what was pretty decent in the seed and it was because of HER that this seed was such a Pretty. It was because of HER that this Pretty nurtured other pretties!! I'm starting to think that this girl was a little boastful. Oh she swore against everything around her. Everything was wrong. Everything!! She was hurt and angry and frustrated and hurt and angry some more.
As she lost her pretty decent Pretty to the Change, she looked back toward the other pretties and sought out comfort. The poor neglected curled pretties could not help her too much. After all, they were curled up in the most unfortunate of ways. The other pretties (the ones that grew beautifully) were supportive. The girl felt like perhaps she could go on. No where near as happy as she'd been, she'd given up any hope of being as happy as she'd been. What a drama queen...
Time went on and the pretty decent Pretty went off with the Change. They settled somewhere else, but still just near enough. I mean...the garden is only but so big. Time passed and the girl took turns blaming everything for her loss. She had moments when she was Over It and it felt good. HA! She was fine and then oh not so fine at all.
Remember the curled pretties, the ones that curled in the most unfortunate of ways? They were doing better. I mean, they had a long way to go, but sometime during the girl's hurt and angry and frustrated and hurt and angry some more, her eyes opened to the curled pretties and they started to straighten up, slowing.
One day the girl started to notice that the other pretties, remember the ones that grew...? Well they were still around, but since at one point every pretty and the girl grew together, there was still pretties in common. The girl realized that she was sickened by some of the pretties. She was angry because despite all that SHE had gone though, they were still growing and being nurtured by the pretty decent Pretty and the Change. This girl, I don't know Dear Readers, I might be a little turned off by her. Anyway...so she was so wrapped up in her concerns, that she started to look away from the pretties. Here is another list, they are so handy:
1. A girl found a seed, a pretty decent seed.
2. She gave the seed her all and it developed into a Pretty.
3. Pretties that were already there started to curl up in the most unfortunate ways.
4. Not ALL of the pretties curled up, some grew, some grew
beautifully, quite possibly in the same spirit as the girl and her
pretty decent seed.
5. A Change came and the pretty decent Pretty went off with it.
6. The girl became very hurt and angry and frustrated and hurt and angry some more.
7. The girl's eyes opened to the curled pretties and they started to straighten up.
8. The other pretties (the ones that grew beautifully) were still in common.
9. The girl became sickened by the other pretties.
New Development: 10. Things started to Change between the girl and the pretties. Not The Change, just another Change.
Dear Readers, the girl slowly but surely started to neglect the other pretties. What a pattern! She didn't know how to feel about it. She was not sure if it were the right thing or the wrong thing. She grew tired of lamenting the pretty decent Pretty and she was sure, positive even, that the other pretties (in common and otherwise) were just as tired.
Oh Universe...You always know what's best.
One day, the girl was completing some mundane task, say washing dishes after a holiday....and she had an epiphany. READERS, I did not spell check that, I am hoping it is the word that I mean it to be, otherwise, author's rights. The girl had an epiphany. She thought about the pretties and the relationships that she had with them...whatever was left after the Change. She realized that all of the pretties were in common and it was their right. However, it was also her right to decide which pretties she could now tolerate. She decided that this all was more of a catalyst then she'd given it credit. What started as a small hairline crack was now a huge chasm, like huge, like whoa. She realized that some of the pretties were worth her concern and some were not. Some of the pretties she could accept, and some she could not. Some of the pretties, they were so necessary in her garden, that she was willing to overlook the commonesque of it all. Some of the pretties were quite possibly lost to her forever, and she was willing to accept that. Some of the pretties would just remind the girl of things she'd rather had STAYED FORGOTTEN, but at no fault of maybe just slight fault of their own, the pretties would just grow as reminders.
Reminders of the pretty decent seed that she'd seen something it or that had seen something in her...depending on your perspective. Reminders of when she became very hurt and angry and frustrated and hurt and angry some more. Reminders of the pretties that started to curl in the most unfortunate ways.
Do you understand, because the girl just might...do you understand that this catalyst was so necessary? The Change was so necessary. The girl didn't realize that this was all part of her growth. She was so wrapped in what she was doing, this wonderful thing that she was doing, that she missed so much. She was so wrapped up in her anger that she almost missed more.
I can tell (because I'm so deep) that the girl has matured because she is not angry at the other pretties. She just does not want them near her. Ok, that sounds angry. Here is a better thought: She is acutely aware that her garden does not have to contain all the pretties. She is acutely aware that if her garden is overrun with all type of pretties, some might begin to curl in the most unfortunate of ways, still others may twist and become weeds, choking the life out of the other pretties. Ok, everything got quite morbid after the comma, but yeah. Sometimes life is all twisty with weeds. Weeds need recognition too.
I don't know what I need to add here. I mean, this story, I can't tell if it is over. Facets of it is definitely over. The story could change, it could grow, it could even curl up in the most unfortunate of ways.
Dearest Readers, I think I've told you before, I don't know (specifically) when and if you read my blog. I know during the garbled confusing writing process, you are my light at the end. I feel like I am talking to you. Since I know you, I know when you are smiling, when you are rolling your eyes, when you want to disagree, when you want to agree...I know you and I appreciate you. You usually know the end of my story before I do, I don't know how you do, you just do. I don't even remember how I used to sign off.
Hell, I had to go through all types of verification codes and mayhem to even blog today.
Thank you, thank you yesterday, today and hopefully tomorrow,
Christine (completely, utterly me, truly me)
Friday, November 29, 2013
Friday, November 16, 2012
Special Request Blog
Dear Readers:
We must take a short move from our regularly scheduled blog. Now is the point when you tell me that we have not had a schedule in ages.
Yes, I know. I have to tell you something about this blog, but I don't really know where to start. I asked a Dear Friend if she preferred the story or the punchline. Here is what I do know, this blog has a deadline, it has a deadline of COBT (close of business today) and that would be about 5pm. That being said, let's join our heroine in her quest for oneness...or two-ness or nese.
It was a dark and stormy night...it was actually, during Hurricane Sandy (can I mention that that was a corny name for a hurricane). It was Halloween and I think that it was either dark and stormy or at the very least dark. I was perusing faces and profiles (sometimes in that order) on a dating website.
I did say COBT, right?
Fast Forward: She and I had a great exchange and she mentioned that I seemed familiar. After some discussion, she connected me to that archaic Facebook of Past, MySpace.
Yes. MySpace. She also has an aol email, more on that later, or not.
We decided to meet up, especially since we were practically old friends (though I STILL don't remember her).
Date after date we moved on....
COBT!!!
We went away for a great weekend and had many, many conversations. During one conversation, I kind of, sort of, alright flat out excluded a little tidbit of fact...simply because it was just a tidbit.
Come to the end of the weekend and we are feeling great and the Little Tidbit Of Fact decided to be THIS LOUD AND IN YOUR FACE, wait...I moved ahead....
She asked if she could post a group pic that included me on her Facebook. I said yes, because what else is Facebook for, if you can't share good times.
Oh wait....Little Tidbit Of Fact can crawl off the www, because YES....THE LOUD AND IN YOUR FACE just so happened to be a friend on her FB who, yes, saw my pic and
wait for it
wait for it
wait for it
Sent a damned "How do you know Lola" inbox.
That's what I said.
So of course I get a "Do you know (insert generic hispanicky name here)?
I wanted to NOT KNOW HER, but what to do, what to do?
What I was not going to do was ruin a perfectly good start with a blip. So I talked and apologized.
And talked.
And talked.
And talked.
And talked.
Dear Readers, you get the idea.
She decided to allow me to repent, as long as I met a list of demands. One of the demands was this blog. Another was a molten chocolate cake way too close to vanilla ice cream (24pts!!).
The list of demands totaled seven demands. I am ticking them off.
Here is the part when I briefly take a moment of silence to reflect on my sin, the sin of lying...while my mouth (no homo) recalls the audacity of that molten chocolate cake way too close to vanilla ice cream (24pts!!).
I appreciate the chance to redeem myself.
Dear Readers, please welcome (insert not so typical hispanicky name here). I hope you stay.
A Simple Start,
Christine
We must take a short move from our regularly scheduled blog. Now is the point when you tell me that we have not had a schedule in ages.
Yes, I know. I have to tell you something about this blog, but I don't really know where to start. I asked a Dear Friend if she preferred the story or the punchline. Here is what I do know, this blog has a deadline, it has a deadline of COBT (close of business today) and that would be about 5pm. That being said, let's join our heroine in her quest for oneness...or two-ness or nese.
It was a dark and stormy night...it was actually, during Hurricane Sandy (can I mention that that was a corny name for a hurricane). It was Halloween and I think that it was either dark and stormy or at the very least dark. I was perusing faces and profiles (sometimes in that order) on a dating website.
I did say COBT, right?
Fast Forward: She and I had a great exchange and she mentioned that I seemed familiar. After some discussion, she connected me to that archaic Facebook of Past, MySpace.
Yes. MySpace. She also has an aol email, more on that later, or not.
We decided to meet up, especially since we were practically old friends (though I STILL don't remember her).
Date after date we moved on....
COBT!!!
We went away for a great weekend and had many, many conversations. During one conversation, I kind of, sort of, alright flat out excluded a little tidbit of fact...simply because it was just a tidbit.
Come to the end of the weekend and we are feeling great and the Little Tidbit Of Fact decided to be THIS LOUD AND IN YOUR FACE, wait...I moved ahead....
She asked if she could post a group pic that included me on her Facebook. I said yes, because what else is Facebook for, if you can't share good times.
Oh wait....Little Tidbit Of Fact can crawl off the www, because YES....THE LOUD AND IN YOUR FACE just so happened to be a friend on her FB who, yes, saw my pic and
wait for it
wait for it
wait for it
Sent a damned "How do you know Lola" inbox.
That's what I said.
So of course I get a "Do you know (insert generic hispanicky name here)?
I wanted to NOT KNOW HER, but what to do, what to do?
What I was not going to do was ruin a perfectly good start with a blip. So I talked and apologized.
And talked.
And talked.
And talked.
And talked.
Dear Readers, you get the idea.
She decided to allow me to repent, as long as I met a list of demands. One of the demands was this blog. Another was a molten chocolate cake way too close to vanilla ice cream (24pts!!).
The list of demands totaled seven demands. I am ticking them off.
Here is the part when I briefly take a moment of silence to reflect on my sin, the sin of lying...while my mouth (no homo) recalls the audacity of that molten chocolate cake way too close to vanilla ice cream (24pts!!).
I appreciate the chance to redeem myself.
Dear Readers, please welcome (insert not so typical hispanicky name here). I hope you stay.
A Simple Start,
Christine
Friday, October 12, 2012
90/3=30
Dear Readers:
The purpose of this blog is to list the reasons that I am irate today. Hopefully at the end of this, I can list reasons to be happy. Right now, I am in rare form. Some of you may not want to even continue reading because I am in a very dark inky mood. Actually, for each angry point, I will counter with a happy point right below. This will work better than me going ABW all over this helpless Mac.
1. There is a meeting going on so I am banished to the copy room.
But, that means I can sit alone and blog
2. My Kindle won't turn on.
But, I will go to Kindle Help in a bit to figure out why.
3. My stomach hurts.
But, my weigh-in will be awesome tomorrow if I am unable to keep anything down today.
4. I had a nightmare of a man climbing through my bedroom window.
But, in mid scream, I remembered that I am on the 7th floor of a high rise, making such a feat impossible.
5. My mother called me every hour on the hour, I think.
But, I didn't answer (I don't know if that was good for her, but it worked for me).
6. I slept about 42min last night, between the nightmare and my cell buzzing.
But, I had the most amazing 30min nap on the subway this morning.
7. I miss my friends terribly.
But, I will see some of my favorite people tomorrow. (Shout out to the Birthday Queen of My World)
8. My apartment is a mess.
But, that is because it is being painted.
9. Despite my stomachache, I am hungry.
But, it was my choice to spend 7pts on wine and cheese for breakfast.
10. I am all out of socks, meaning yesterday's socks are also today's socks.
But, it is not like a)they match, b)anyone will know, c)I truly GAF.
11. I feel very anxious.
But, it could be the stomachache confusing me.
12. I feel a little weepy.
But, I could just need a good cry.
13. I just realized that my birthday is less than five months away.
But, it is the last quarter of my thirties, and being 40 is a little exciting to me.
14. It being the last quarter of my thirties (nearly) makes me wonder what have I done for me lately?
But, then I realize I have done a whole lot and will do a whole lot more.
15. My cat shat in my Puma bag.
But, it was a bag that was a gift with all types of stipulations, so serves it right. I think.
16. My cat shat in my Puma bag. (my list, my rules)
But, at least he didn't pee in it.
17. My cat shat in my Puma bag.
But, how often do I get to use the past tense of shit?
18. I would love a bagel right now.
But, it will taste better on Sunday when I can afford the points.
19. I feel like something shady is going on.
But, a)it is what it is, b)who am I to complain, 3)I make my own choices, so 4)I might as well cuddle in this bed that I made.
20. I don't really think that there is anything good about #19 and I am almost positive I am holding back.
But, I need to keep some things to myself, as I have all types of folk (negative and positive) read my blog and I refuse to not blog, but I might just have to censor myself a little bit.
I don't suffer from any sort of OCD but I don't like to end my lists with an odd number. What I do realize while I type is that I am not nearly as angry as I thought I was, rather I am just a bit moody. A bit moody is not a big thing.
I do need a cleansing cry, but I certainly won't engage in such madness while at work. Perhaps I should go watch the kindergarteners during their lessons. Watching little ones during instruction is as peaceful as watching puppies. Providing that it is not your job to teach/care for said little ones/puppies. I am enjoying some yogurt, as something needs to carry me through to lunch. I felt like a bloody mary yesterday, I definitely will have one today.
I am really reflective, even more so than usual and I am thinking about my place in this world. I mean, we tend to look at ourselves under certain lenses. If I imagine what people know about me, I guess I carry the following labels:
Mother
Educator
Sister
Lesbian
Friend
Daughter
Niece
Cousin
Weight Watcher
I don't dare think about what people think about my personality.
My real question is where do I personally think I fit in? How do I describe myself? How honest am I able to be with myself? What I think of myself must have something to do with what I give off and ultimately what people think of me.
Where do I really fit in?
Am I wasting my time?
I have people who depend on me and look up to me. Am I serving them well?
Am I serving myself well?
Dear Readers, I am so sorry for all of this. I just don't know what to do, nor do I know if blogging will help. This is certainly killing time until my bloody mary.
Why kill time?
Dear Readers, I must be having an Edgar Allen Poe moment. I may be approaching the last quarter of my thirties, but bigger than that is the fact that I am approaching the next third of my life. Is that true? Or am I in it? This is when mathematical sense becomes necessary. Assuming that I will live until 90, that means my life is actually already in the second third. Oh man. I am running out of time.
Do people care when they run out of life? Do they care if they don't realize it? If my life is cut short, but I don't realize it when it is cut, what I am really worrying about? I would hate to lie in bed, feeling my life slowly seep out and I would hate to have all that time to think about what I should have done.
Who needs all of that, when I can stress that right now?
My anger is being dissipated, but evolving to sadness. Not depression. Sadness. There is a difference. I don't know if this is the angle that I want this blog to take, but if you are my Dear Reader, than you know I really can't control the direction of my blogs.
Can I control the direction of my life? Hopefully. I have been doing better with it, but with the belief that everything is already planned out, I should stop being surprised. I wish I believed in reincarnation, then perhaps I could be a little lighter.
This is, rather, was a long blog. I don't know if you have read this far. If you have, thank you, if you have not, thank you. Well if you didn't get this far, then you missed the best part---this eloquent thanks.
Thanks for reading.
A simple start,
Christine
The purpose of this blog is to list the reasons that I am irate today. Hopefully at the end of this, I can list reasons to be happy. Right now, I am in rare form. Some of you may not want to even continue reading because I am in a very dark inky mood. Actually, for each angry point, I will counter with a happy point right below. This will work better than me going ABW all over this helpless Mac.
1. There is a meeting going on so I am banished to the copy room.
But, that means I can sit alone and blog
2. My Kindle won't turn on.
But, I will go to Kindle Help in a bit to figure out why.
3. My stomach hurts.
But, my weigh-in will be awesome tomorrow if I am unable to keep anything down today.
4. I had a nightmare of a man climbing through my bedroom window.
But, in mid scream, I remembered that I am on the 7th floor of a high rise, making such a feat impossible.
5. My mother called me every hour on the hour, I think.
But, I didn't answer (I don't know if that was good for her, but it worked for me).
6. I slept about 42min last night, between the nightmare and my cell buzzing.
But, I had the most amazing 30min nap on the subway this morning.
7. I miss my friends terribly.
But, I will see some of my favorite people tomorrow. (Shout out to the Birthday Queen of My World)
8. My apartment is a mess.
But, that is because it is being painted.
9. Despite my stomachache, I am hungry.
But, it was my choice to spend 7pts on wine and cheese for breakfast.
10. I am all out of socks, meaning yesterday's socks are also today's socks.
But, it is not like a)they match, b)anyone will know, c)I truly GAF.
11. I feel very anxious.
But, it could be the stomachache confusing me.
12. I feel a little weepy.
But, I could just need a good cry.
13. I just realized that my birthday is less than five months away.
But, it is the last quarter of my thirties, and being 40 is a little exciting to me.
14. It being the last quarter of my thirties (nearly) makes me wonder what have I done for me lately?
But, then I realize I have done a whole lot and will do a whole lot more.
15. My cat shat in my Puma bag.
But, it was a bag that was a gift with all types of stipulations, so serves it right. I think.
16. My cat shat in my Puma bag. (my list, my rules)
But, at least he didn't pee in it.
17. My cat shat in my Puma bag.
But, how often do I get to use the past tense of shit?
18. I would love a bagel right now.
But, it will taste better on Sunday when I can afford the points.
19. I feel like something shady is going on.
But, a)it is what it is, b)who am I to complain, 3)I make my own choices, so 4)I might as well cuddle in this bed that I made.
20. I don't really think that there is anything good about #19 and I am almost positive I am holding back.
But, I need to keep some things to myself, as I have all types of folk (negative and positive) read my blog and I refuse to not blog, but I might just have to censor myself a little bit.
I don't suffer from any sort of OCD but I don't like to end my lists with an odd number. What I do realize while I type is that I am not nearly as angry as I thought I was, rather I am just a bit moody. A bit moody is not a big thing.
I do need a cleansing cry, but I certainly won't engage in such madness while at work. Perhaps I should go watch the kindergarteners during their lessons. Watching little ones during instruction is as peaceful as watching puppies. Providing that it is not your job to teach/care for said little ones/puppies. I am enjoying some yogurt, as something needs to carry me through to lunch. I felt like a bloody mary yesterday, I definitely will have one today.
I am really reflective, even more so than usual and I am thinking about my place in this world. I mean, we tend to look at ourselves under certain lenses. If I imagine what people know about me, I guess I carry the following labels:
Mother
Educator
Sister
Lesbian
Friend
Daughter
Niece
Cousin
Weight Watcher
I don't dare think about what people think about my personality.
My real question is where do I personally think I fit in? How do I describe myself? How honest am I able to be with myself? What I think of myself must have something to do with what I give off and ultimately what people think of me.
Where do I really fit in?
Am I wasting my time?
I have people who depend on me and look up to me. Am I serving them well?
Am I serving myself well?
Dear Readers, I am so sorry for all of this. I just don't know what to do, nor do I know if blogging will help. This is certainly killing time until my bloody mary.
Why kill time?
Dear Readers, I must be having an Edgar Allen Poe moment. I may be approaching the last quarter of my thirties, but bigger than that is the fact that I am approaching the next third of my life. Is that true? Or am I in it? This is when mathematical sense becomes necessary. Assuming that I will live until 90, that means my life is actually already in the second third. Oh man. I am running out of time.
Do people care when they run out of life? Do they care if they don't realize it? If my life is cut short, but I don't realize it when it is cut, what I am really worrying about? I would hate to lie in bed, feeling my life slowly seep out and I would hate to have all that time to think about what I should have done.
Who needs all of that, when I can stress that right now?
My anger is being dissipated, but evolving to sadness. Not depression. Sadness. There is a difference. I don't know if this is the angle that I want this blog to take, but if you are my Dear Reader, than you know I really can't control the direction of my blogs.
Can I control the direction of my life? Hopefully. I have been doing better with it, but with the belief that everything is already planned out, I should stop being surprised. I wish I believed in reincarnation, then perhaps I could be a little lighter.
This is, rather, was a long blog. I don't know if you have read this far. If you have, thank you, if you have not, thank you. Well if you didn't get this far, then you missed the best part---this eloquent thanks.
Thanks for reading.
A simple start,
Christine
Sunday, September 16, 2012
This Blog is for You, and You, and You over There Too
Dear Readers,
Before I even start, I wanted to share this thought with you.
Love is someone who checks in on you when your shower is particularly long.
It is not like I take little cheesy splashes like so many birds, its just because a long shower is a luxury that I don't typically partake upon. In this shower, I decided to shave without drawing blood, without thinking about the chores and whatnots that would have to happen today, without planning my meals for the day...I even turned off my supersonic mommy hearing. It was very relaxing. I even deep conditioned my hair.
Unfortunately, because there is always an unfortunately...this long shower devoid of useful thinking allowed my brain to go to other places. Not even nice secret dark places of pleasure! Not even those. Trust me, I am really good about using my Me Time. I didn't even remotely consider any of the loveliness and happy spots around my body. Nope. No loving in that shower. Me Time did not warp into Oh Yeah Me Time! Later....
So what did I go....
I bet you want to know.
Dontcha Dontcha Dontcha
Obviously there is a reason that I am here instead of tending to the Artist Formally Known As. Ok, ok, she is asleep, but not for long. It has come to my attention (and this is not the last time or first time) that I say a whole lot online. OF COURSE I DO. I am a Pisces. Sheesh....we LOVE this shit. Anyway.....
In the shower I was indulging in Conversations With You!! I guess the they are best called Conversations With Myself, but no, not really, because in order for them to be Conversations With Myself, I would have to actually answer myself. Conversations With You are conversations that may never ever be answered (as You are not there). Conversations With You are very useful should I ever have the actual conversation with you in Real Time. Then you will be so fascinated with the snappy smart responses. Unbeknownst to you, Conversations With You are almost rehearsals. Sometimes I ad-lib your responses. Those responses range from these levels:
1. What I Wish You Would Say
2. What You Will Probably Say
3. What I Pray That You Don't Even Think Because My Inner Karate ChopSpert May Want To Kick You in The Mouth
Do you understand, Dear Readers, why this shower was so long? Imagine! First of all Conversations With You are seldom with just one person. In this case there was one burning conversation and a few smaller ones. I think I purposely added the few small ones because I didn't want the stress and obligation (STRESS) to Talk to Only One You in my entire shower.
Dear Readers, in the spirit of sharing everything down the to the wart that I burned off this week, I have decided to share today's Conversations With You. I don't think I will go to the trouble of playing with the response ranges. If I do that, we will be here all freaking day and the Artist Formally Known As & I have stuff to do today. Our time is very precious and feels oh so good and DAMN you Pandora for playing Al Green right now. This is not the music for this blog. Oh...deep thoughtful pause and the Lola in me challenges the Christine to a Soul Bop Dance Off.....times are good or bad, happy or sad....
Ok, I am back. I just want to interject, especially to one of my favorite Dear Readers, mother of the King...I really love Ana Steele's inner diva and subconscious and I really think that I have also harbored all these inner Me's and I am so happy that someone thought to write about them. Not so secretly I am seething that I didn't do it first or at the very least in between covers of a novel or three....
What I don't do in my blog is expose the people that I write about. If you are someone who knows me and honestly knows our relationship both here and in Real Time, then you ought to know who you are when I talk about/to you. Ok? Real talk, don't let the cute confuse you, I am uber serious and I do NOTHING ACCIDENTALLY. If you really want to see the me at my best and worst and best again, go visit Lola Tuesday. Most of my Dear Readers have read all of my blogs and follow my FB, Twitter and Google+. Knowledge is power, yo. I am no different. Keep thinking that I don't know. One Dear Ex felt the (sage) need to protect her reputation upon our break up and started telling people that I was the...wait, I need to translate something into Spanish.... dead mosquito...
Mosquito Muerto! This is a person who plays innocent but in real time is quite aware of who they really are. Does anyone really mourn a dead mosquito? Hell to the no. This mosquito is not going ANYWHERE. Anyway, yes, I am well aware of the strength of my words and actions, especially with a willing keyboard at my fingers.
That being say.....BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
First Conversation:
So I missed piano last week...I could have actually made it. What did I miss? I really don't think that I am really taking this class seriously. In fact, as long as you are listening, I can honestly tell you that I only took this class to be near you. I don't know why I am so drawn to you, but I am. Anyhow, I don't want to embarrass myself as I have a man, as well as you and this would go absolutely no where. It is ok for me to have an innocent crush on you. I won't waste your time, but could I trace your ink art with my finger? I think that is what I have always wanted to do. Just trace it. Am I blushing? Yes. I can find middle C. Let's talk piano.
Second Conversation:
No I don't give a rat's ass about you, but maybe I do because you sneak into my thoughts STILL. Jesus take the wheel but you know how to rile me up. Sometimes the effort put into ignoring someone takes so much out of me. Shit. Ugh. No I don't have burning questions. Why would you assume that I want answers that would never be sufficient enough? I don't believe anything that you say. You are a liar, and a poor one. Ugh....such a whiny, pouty, Mistress of Nothing. Embrace the time that we had together and be happy that I am adult enough to anonymously rake through our trash here and not to your face. I don't even want to share this trash pile with you. Ick. Please stalk away on your freakishly tiny feet, attached to those cankles and ample thighs and go...far....away....sheesh.
Third Conversation:
I know that you want to call me. Ha. I have nothing to say to you. You messed it up again, but it was wise for you to do so, because you are right, I will never give up with I have with her. I am in love. You will find someone for you too, I know you will. I wish I could give you advice on how to, but our time was so short.
Fourth Conversation:
DAMN STOP WHISPERING!! How do you expect me to understand you if you insist on whispering?? I really do want to understand that words that are coming out of your mouth but the guttural semi gay semi threatening way that you speak makes my eyes dilute and my arm hair stand on end. Please. Just speak.
Fifth Conversation:
Listen, I really don't dislike you. The truth of the matter is, I will never throw confetti over a relationship outside of mine. As a strong woman of color (insert snicker) talking to someone who surrounds herself by people of color (insert snort) you must know that this is ah different for me. The fact of the matter is, we should probably discuss this over tofu stir fry and absurdly small heads of broccoli. I am deeply dedicated to my relationship and not only do I not expect anyone to treat my man the way that I do, it is simply not anyone's place to worry about such things. The formula is simple: All the players know their place. I would talk about sports but I would pluck it up because I don't follow sports. Not like the other one. Yes, there will always be other ones. It's cool. As long as we all know our place in the magnificent life. The Universe already knows. Namaste.
Sixth Conversation:
Anytime we talk about something that you find to be serious, you ask me not to blog about it. I didn't even know that you read my blogs, so that makes me feel special. I wish we were closer. We don't have much in common, but contrary to popular thought, I do wish we had a stronger familial bond. I don't mind being who I am. I guess I can't really complain about you having events and not including me, because we all know that I seldom show up. I guess what I am trying to say is, I still want to know. I do sometimes feel lonely, but I know that my loneliness is self-afflicted. I rake my fingers through my wildly curly unruly hair and think that this is who I really am. I can't fit the box that you might need me to fit. I should try though. Nope. I won't. I love you all the same.
Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth Conversations:
Please stop pretending to be my friend to sleep with me. By sleep with me, I mean, take my body as if you have some real investment besides your own needy gratification. You missed the window of opportunity when I suffered for absentee self esteem. Now I am well aware that my curves make your eyes roll back and your groin pound. I. Don't. Want. Nor. Do. I. Need. You. To. Touch. Me. First of all, my sex life is very awesome and second of all, I am really quite crafty at pleasuring myself. I enjoy me, all the time, every day. You are not welcome. You ought to practice self gratification. You may however continue to day/noon/night dream about my endlessly long legs wrapping around your body. You may continue to wonder about the point of climax when my back arches, my breath quickens and my eyes shut tight and then snap open to rapt attention. I know what I have, what to do with it, and what it can do to another. So does my man. The position has been filled.
Whew. Dear Readers, I am back. Those last few conversations are making me feel some kind of way. Mmmmmm do I love me.....
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ
A simple start,
Christine
Before I even start, I wanted to share this thought with you.
Love is someone who checks in on you when your shower is particularly long.
It is not like I take little cheesy splashes like so many birds, its just because a long shower is a luxury that I don't typically partake upon. In this shower, I decided to shave without drawing blood, without thinking about the chores and whatnots that would have to happen today, without planning my meals for the day...I even turned off my supersonic mommy hearing. It was very relaxing. I even deep conditioned my hair.
Unfortunately, because there is always an unfortunately...this long shower devoid of useful thinking allowed my brain to go to other places. Not even nice secret dark places of pleasure! Not even those. Trust me, I am really good about using my Me Time. I didn't even remotely consider any of the loveliness and happy spots around my body. Nope. No loving in that shower. Me Time did not warp into Oh Yeah Me Time! Later....
So what did I go....
I bet you want to know.
Dontcha Dontcha Dontcha
Obviously there is a reason that I am here instead of tending to the Artist Formally Known As. Ok, ok, she is asleep, but not for long. It has come to my attention (and this is not the last time or first time) that I say a whole lot online. OF COURSE I DO. I am a Pisces. Sheesh....we LOVE this shit. Anyway.....
In the shower I was indulging in Conversations With You!! I guess the they are best called Conversations With Myself, but no, not really, because in order for them to be Conversations With Myself, I would have to actually answer myself. Conversations With You are conversations that may never ever be answered (as You are not there). Conversations With You are very useful should I ever have the actual conversation with you in Real Time. Then you will be so fascinated with the snappy smart responses. Unbeknownst to you, Conversations With You are almost rehearsals. Sometimes I ad-lib your responses. Those responses range from these levels:
1. What I Wish You Would Say
2. What You Will Probably Say
3. What I Pray That You Don't Even Think Because My Inner Karate ChopSpert May Want To Kick You in The Mouth
Do you understand, Dear Readers, why this shower was so long? Imagine! First of all Conversations With You are seldom with just one person. In this case there was one burning conversation and a few smaller ones. I think I purposely added the few small ones because I didn't want the stress and obligation (STRESS) to Talk to Only One You in my entire shower.
Dear Readers, in the spirit of sharing everything down the to the wart that I burned off this week, I have decided to share today's Conversations With You. I don't think I will go to the trouble of playing with the response ranges. If I do that, we will be here all freaking day and the Artist Formally Known As & I have stuff to do today. Our time is very precious and feels oh so good and DAMN you Pandora for playing Al Green right now. This is not the music for this blog. Oh...deep thoughtful pause and the Lola in me challenges the Christine to a Soul Bop Dance Off.....times are good or bad, happy or sad....
Ok, I am back. I just want to interject, especially to one of my favorite Dear Readers, mother of the King...I really love Ana Steele's inner diva and subconscious and I really think that I have also harbored all these inner Me's and I am so happy that someone thought to write about them. Not so secretly I am seething that I didn't do it first or at the very least in between covers of a novel or three....
What I don't do in my blog is expose the people that I write about. If you are someone who knows me and honestly knows our relationship both here and in Real Time, then you ought to know who you are when I talk about/to you. Ok? Real talk, don't let the cute confuse you, I am uber serious and I do NOTHING ACCIDENTALLY. If you really want to see the me at my best and worst and best again, go visit Lola Tuesday. Most of my Dear Readers have read all of my blogs and follow my FB, Twitter and Google+. Knowledge is power, yo. I am no different. Keep thinking that I don't know. One Dear Ex felt the (sage) need to protect her reputation upon our break up and started telling people that I was the...wait, I need to translate something into Spanish.... dead mosquito...
Mosquito Muerto! This is a person who plays innocent but in real time is quite aware of who they really are. Does anyone really mourn a dead mosquito? Hell to the no. This mosquito is not going ANYWHERE. Anyway, yes, I am well aware of the strength of my words and actions, especially with a willing keyboard at my fingers.
That being say.....BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
First Conversation:
So I missed piano last week...I could have actually made it. What did I miss? I really don't think that I am really taking this class seriously. In fact, as long as you are listening, I can honestly tell you that I only took this class to be near you. I don't know why I am so drawn to you, but I am. Anyhow, I don't want to embarrass myself as I have a man, as well as you and this would go absolutely no where. It is ok for me to have an innocent crush on you. I won't waste your time, but could I trace your ink art with my finger? I think that is what I have always wanted to do. Just trace it. Am I blushing? Yes. I can find middle C. Let's talk piano.
Second Conversation:
No I don't give a rat's ass about you, but maybe I do because you sneak into my thoughts STILL. Jesus take the wheel but you know how to rile me up. Sometimes the effort put into ignoring someone takes so much out of me. Shit. Ugh. No I don't have burning questions. Why would you assume that I want answers that would never be sufficient enough? I don't believe anything that you say. You are a liar, and a poor one. Ugh....such a whiny, pouty, Mistress of Nothing. Embrace the time that we had together and be happy that I am adult enough to anonymously rake through our trash here and not to your face. I don't even want to share this trash pile with you. Ick. Please stalk away on your freakishly tiny feet, attached to those cankles and ample thighs and go...far....away....sheesh.
Third Conversation:
I know that you want to call me. Ha. I have nothing to say to you. You messed it up again, but it was wise for you to do so, because you are right, I will never give up with I have with her. I am in love. You will find someone for you too, I know you will. I wish I could give you advice on how to, but our time was so short.
Fourth Conversation:
DAMN STOP WHISPERING!! How do you expect me to understand you if you insist on whispering?? I really do want to understand that words that are coming out of your mouth but the guttural semi gay semi threatening way that you speak makes my eyes dilute and my arm hair stand on end. Please. Just speak.
Fifth Conversation:
Listen, I really don't dislike you. The truth of the matter is, I will never throw confetti over a relationship outside of mine. As a strong woman of color (insert snicker) talking to someone who surrounds herself by people of color (insert snort) you must know that this is ah different for me. The fact of the matter is, we should probably discuss this over tofu stir fry and absurdly small heads of broccoli. I am deeply dedicated to my relationship and not only do I not expect anyone to treat my man the way that I do, it is simply not anyone's place to worry about such things. The formula is simple: All the players know their place. I would talk about sports but I would pluck it up because I don't follow sports. Not like the other one. Yes, there will always be other ones. It's cool. As long as we all know our place in the magnificent life. The Universe already knows. Namaste.
Sixth Conversation:
Anytime we talk about something that you find to be serious, you ask me not to blog about it. I didn't even know that you read my blogs, so that makes me feel special. I wish we were closer. We don't have much in common, but contrary to popular thought, I do wish we had a stronger familial bond. I don't mind being who I am. I guess I can't really complain about you having events and not including me, because we all know that I seldom show up. I guess what I am trying to say is, I still want to know. I do sometimes feel lonely, but I know that my loneliness is self-afflicted. I rake my fingers through my wildly curly unruly hair and think that this is who I really am. I can't fit the box that you might need me to fit. I should try though. Nope. I won't. I love you all the same.
Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth Conversations:
Please stop pretending to be my friend to sleep with me. By sleep with me, I mean, take my body as if you have some real investment besides your own needy gratification. You missed the window of opportunity when I suffered for absentee self esteem. Now I am well aware that my curves make your eyes roll back and your groin pound. I. Don't. Want. Nor. Do. I. Need. You. To. Touch. Me. First of all, my sex life is very awesome and second of all, I am really quite crafty at pleasuring myself. I enjoy me, all the time, every day. You are not welcome. You ought to practice self gratification. You may however continue to day/noon/night dream about my endlessly long legs wrapping around your body. You may continue to wonder about the point of climax when my back arches, my breath quickens and my eyes shut tight and then snap open to rapt attention. I know what I have, what to do with it, and what it can do to another. So does my man. The position has been filled.
Whew. Dear Readers, I am back. Those last few conversations are making me feel some kind of way. Mmmmmm do I love me.....
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ
A simple start,
Christine
Sunday, September 2, 2012
New Title...Told You. Still Valid.
Dear Readers:
Pardon the slow title. I will probably change it, making this introduction moot. Whatever.
How are you lovelies? I am so reflective this morning. I don't know if it is because of the raw clams, fries, beer and funnel cake from yesterday's jaunt to Coney Island or what...but OMGenius with the Lolabration going on. I have so much to say, so much to keep to myself but we all know that I am not a pro at keeping anything to myself.
Today, as I have been up for a few hours and I know the artist formally known as does not stir until noon...I have a lot of thoughts to get down.
I have since waking:
1. Responded to a text from my dear father requesting recent pictures of his grandkids. None of me, if you were wondering, as being his favorite has etched my image on his soul forever.
2. Brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
3. Made coffee (unsuccessfully) eggs and trimmed strawberries with a handful of grapes for breakfast.
4. Dealt with the glaring cat by doling out her breakfast.
5. Read a few chapters in Fifty Shades of something or another..book 2.
6. Facebooked...this was done throughout numbers 1-10...which is why my battery is on life support.
7. Thought (hard) this was done throughout numbers 1-10 as well, which is why I am here now.
8. Made more coffee for the artist formally known as and giggled at the thought of going for a walk and leaving this note: Took cat for a stroll, coffee is in the pot. xoxo
9. Flossed, brushed, blinked in my contacts and attempted a better bun in my hair which caused the band to pop, ergo, the mess settled at my shoulders.
10. Peeked in on the artist formally known as, wrapped myself in a quilt and posted my booty here in front of you, Dear Readers.
So it is probably time to get on with my thoughts, in no particular order as you must know, I do nothing in order.
On Happiness:
I wrote a blog some time ago about the fear of forgetting the feeling of happiness. I realize now that I was wrong. You can't really forget the feeling of happiness, but it can be clouded by other emotions. I have never forgotten happiness, I just have manipulated myself (similar to self flogging, it does not really work aside from exhausting yourself) to fit into certain unhappy situations. Realistically, why would anyone do something that they don't like? Why would anyone purposely put themselves in an unhappy situation? I am sure that I have blogged either here or at First Tuesday about the joy of shedding tears. Could it be that I have placed myself in so called unhappy situations simply for the relief of tears? I don't really know. I do know that I have cried this summer, but not nearly as much as last summer and no where close to the summer before. I think, no, actually I know that in order to truly appreciate and experience happiness you simply must appreciate and experience sadness. Sucks, but true Puck. I end this thought with, I am happy. My happiness may not suit others which leads successfully and seamlessly to my next frame of thought...
On How Others Interpret My Happiness:
I am, by trade, a whiner. I whine for various reasons. Friends have called me an Attention Whore and though I protested weakly, I never admitted that I didn't really like the term. There are so many other creative ways to modify Whore. Anyway, let me try to stay on target. So I do whine. I can't say that I don't mean to whine. I can't say I recognize when I whine. I do know this....I do know that people have a way of offering unwanted advice when I whine, but guess what....there is only one person to blame for that. You are reading her words right now. Did you guess correctly? You did. I am the reason. You know how some people wear their heart on their sleeve, and their eyes are the window to their soul? Honey Boo Boo Chile, I am a walking, talking, chanting, all eyes on ME personality. I am the Founder, President, Secretary and Board of my Fan Club. Do you think I could not just blog in a private place and save it for my eyes only? Please...what is the fun in that? I am pretty sure that I have digressed from the title of this portion of my blog, but if you get me, you will carry on and go with it. I think all of this is where Attention Whore comes from. Anyway. Since I have so much to say about my feelings, and since I have such great friends...I think that everyone means well. I think that when I am especially hurt and demonstrative (always) that my friends sit up and take notice. Immediately they want to protect me and I appreciate it. I sincerely do. Then I turn around and repeat the absolute behavior that put me in the especially hurt and demonstrative place and they look at me, horrified. Ok, maybe not horrified, but not pleased. I don't know what to say, except this: What makes me happy fluctuates. I do know what I need to do, with or without your advice, and it does not mean that I don't appreciate you...it simply means I will ultimately do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Please don't throw your hands in the air in frustration...rather throw them in the air and wave them like you just don't care. If you get me, you do. I love you for that. Yes, I will continue to moan and swoon and fall in love and fall in lust and fall over a crack and fail to dance, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. Everything. FYI..at this posting, I am happy. This is a sloppy sedgeway in to my next frame of thought...
On Why it is Silly For You to Love Me:
I am not talking about you Dear Readers. I am not talking about any ex lovers. I am not talking about the artist formally known as. I am kind of talking to future lovers and one almost nearly maybe no lover. I am in love. That love is fortified by lust. I don't think it is the other way around. Actually that is not the real reason it is silly for you to love me. It is silly of you to love me because under all this sweet, considerate, smart, sensual woman of a certain age (36 to be precise) is a train wreck at the station. You thought my plate was full? It is not Thanksgiving full, rather it is Hunger Games bounty in the middle of the field full...full of secrets, booby traps, corpses, backpacks chock full of issues and wannabe lovers disguised as wannabe warriors. It is silly of you to love me because I will always be hung up on other things and I don't just mean the artist formally known as. I mean...I just mean...that I cannot be trusted with any more hearts. My heart (enter whine) has been through so much, but not nearly as much or as little as anyone else. I just don't feel like it. Simple. If you can love me, all my ickyness, all my everything, including my love for the artist formally known as, then maybe, just maybe you are safe to move onward Christian solider. I have always wanted to incorporate onward Christian solider into a blog, but I like the tone of onward Christine solider. Anyway, everyone, including my Dear Readers know not to read so hard into everything that I write, but you should because I do mean every word. I just need everyone to understand that I can be a bit much...more so in text then in person. Ready? Probably not. This does not lead into my next thought as I am not even sure of my next thought and I am truly typing this sentence to get there...nope...nothing. Hmmmmm, on wait...here is one....
On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know:
It has never been easy to be me (this is not a whine, this is real talk). It has never been easy being me but I have figured it out for the most part. While I am not a person with multiple personalities, I am a person with multiple thoughts going on at one time. I am absolutely never just being. My mind is never at rest. There are always thoughts (call them plots, if you may) going on. You really just think that I do things without pondering? You are so wrong. I am not a conniving person, but be damned if you think that I am not cool and calculating. See how I left out calm? I have been accused of being so calm that it looks like I don't care. An assumption has never made such a concentrated ass of itself as that. I am almost never calm, not even at rest. I am always on the verge of JUMP. This is why I blog. I need some way of directing traffic. I need some way of justifying the thoughts that continue to roam through me, haphazardly. If I don't, things will get way out of control. Or maybe not. I don't know...but what I do know is that I am stronger than you will ever know. It is not a single-handed feat, rather an all hands on deck effort. I can't really explain, or maybe I don't really want to, but rest assured, I am always one thought ahead, one action ahead, and etc and so on. This leads to my next thought (just following the near heart attack as my blog disappeared, thank you, dear undo arrow)...
On Why I am Not Easily Defeated:
I am not easily defeated not because I am an untouchable but because I simply don't care about things like other people do. Saying that I don't care may be a little abrasive and unnecessarily so, a better statement would be, I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't really worry about things like other people do. I don't really care that my white skirt has been stained by my favorite bag simply because it is my white skirt and my favorite bag and at sometime or another the two shall meet, maybe resulting in disaster. By the way, the artist formally known as took care of that stain and I do care that she cared enough. I think my view on what is most important does not align with what others see. That is precisely why I am not easily defeated. I know that some things that you do (please don't try to guess the identity of "you" as "you" refers to many) are purposely to hurt me. I also know that some things that you do are not meant to hurt me, rather meant to obtain your immediate gratification. I also know that some things that you do do not fall into either category, rather the gray area known as "Reasons You Are A Simple Bastid". The reason you can't really defeat me is my recovery time is mutantesque fast. Refer to On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know...with all the thoughts going through my head, do you honestly think I have time to dwell on anything for an extraordinary amount of time? Do you think breaking my heart is any different then my white skirt + favorite bag = stain (a removable one at that)? It is not. The reason I can look at one time serene and straight crazy eyed is because I am in constant recovery. Some recovery efforts include tears, of the hot stingy fashion, other recovery efforts include a dismissive eye roll. The point is, I will always be ok. The one thing that I have learned through the constant thought sort is that life is ridiculously short and I sweat nothing, not a skirt and certainly not the multitudes of you (again, do not try to identify the you).
Whew...there is more, but who could read beyond this point....and the artist formally know as is not awake. I must attend to wife business. Heeeh...that statement is going to get me off the counter and onto the burner, but again...white skirt + favorite bag = stain (and most stains can be removed). I must attend to Wife Business and let you (yes you, Dear Readers and you Others) on with your thoughts. Happy weekend, mine most certainly is.
A simple start,
Christine
Pardon the slow title. I will probably change it, making this introduction moot. Whatever.
How are you lovelies? I am so reflective this morning. I don't know if it is because of the raw clams, fries, beer and funnel cake from yesterday's jaunt to Coney Island or what...but OMGenius with the Lolabration going on. I have so much to say, so much to keep to myself but we all know that I am not a pro at keeping anything to myself.
Today, as I have been up for a few hours and I know the artist formally known as does not stir until noon...I have a lot of thoughts to get down.
I have since waking:
1. Responded to a text from my dear father requesting recent pictures of his grandkids. None of me, if you were wondering, as being his favorite has etched my image on his soul forever.
2. Brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
3. Made coffee (unsuccessfully) eggs and trimmed strawberries with a handful of grapes for breakfast.
4. Dealt with the glaring cat by doling out her breakfast.
5. Read a few chapters in Fifty Shades of something or another..book 2.
6. Facebooked...this was done throughout numbers 1-10...which is why my battery is on life support.
7. Thought (hard) this was done throughout numbers 1-10 as well, which is why I am here now.
8. Made more coffee for the artist formally known as and giggled at the thought of going for a walk and leaving this note: Took cat for a stroll, coffee is in the pot. xoxo
9. Flossed, brushed, blinked in my contacts and attempted a better bun in my hair which caused the band to pop, ergo, the mess settled at my shoulders.
10. Peeked in on the artist formally known as, wrapped myself in a quilt and posted my booty here in front of you, Dear Readers.
So it is probably time to get on with my thoughts, in no particular order as you must know, I do nothing in order.
On Happiness:
I wrote a blog some time ago about the fear of forgetting the feeling of happiness. I realize now that I was wrong. You can't really forget the feeling of happiness, but it can be clouded by other emotions. I have never forgotten happiness, I just have manipulated myself (similar to self flogging, it does not really work aside from exhausting yourself) to fit into certain unhappy situations. Realistically, why would anyone do something that they don't like? Why would anyone purposely put themselves in an unhappy situation? I am sure that I have blogged either here or at First Tuesday about the joy of shedding tears. Could it be that I have placed myself in so called unhappy situations simply for the relief of tears? I don't really know. I do know that I have cried this summer, but not nearly as much as last summer and no where close to the summer before. I think, no, actually I know that in order to truly appreciate and experience happiness you simply must appreciate and experience sadness. Sucks, but true Puck. I end this thought with, I am happy. My happiness may not suit others which leads successfully and seamlessly to my next frame of thought...
On How Others Interpret My Happiness:
I am, by trade, a whiner. I whine for various reasons. Friends have called me an Attention Whore and though I protested weakly, I never admitted that I didn't really like the term. There are so many other creative ways to modify Whore. Anyway, let me try to stay on target. So I do whine. I can't say that I don't mean to whine. I can't say I recognize when I whine. I do know this....I do know that people have a way of offering unwanted advice when I whine, but guess what....there is only one person to blame for that. You are reading her words right now. Did you guess correctly? You did. I am the reason. You know how some people wear their heart on their sleeve, and their eyes are the window to their soul? Honey Boo Boo Chile, I am a walking, talking, chanting, all eyes on ME personality. I am the Founder, President, Secretary and Board of my Fan Club. Do you think I could not just blog in a private place and save it for my eyes only? Please...what is the fun in that? I am pretty sure that I have digressed from the title of this portion of my blog, but if you get me, you will carry on and go with it. I think all of this is where Attention Whore comes from. Anyway. Since I have so much to say about my feelings, and since I have such great friends...I think that everyone means well. I think that when I am especially hurt and demonstrative (always) that my friends sit up and take notice. Immediately they want to protect me and I appreciate it. I sincerely do. Then I turn around and repeat the absolute behavior that put me in the especially hurt and demonstrative place and they look at me, horrified. Ok, maybe not horrified, but not pleased. I don't know what to say, except this: What makes me happy fluctuates. I do know what I need to do, with or without your advice, and it does not mean that I don't appreciate you...it simply means I will ultimately do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Please don't throw your hands in the air in frustration...rather throw them in the air and wave them like you just don't care. If you get me, you do. I love you for that. Yes, I will continue to moan and swoon and fall in love and fall in lust and fall over a crack and fail to dance, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. Everything. FYI..at this posting, I am happy. This is a sloppy sedgeway in to my next frame of thought...
On Why it is Silly For You to Love Me:
I am not talking about you Dear Readers. I am not talking about any ex lovers. I am not talking about the artist formally known as. I am kind of talking to future lovers and one almost nearly maybe no lover. I am in love. That love is fortified by lust. I don't think it is the other way around. Actually that is not the real reason it is silly for you to love me. It is silly of you to love me because under all this sweet, considerate, smart, sensual woman of a certain age (36 to be precise) is a train wreck at the station. You thought my plate was full? It is not Thanksgiving full, rather it is Hunger Games bounty in the middle of the field full...full of secrets, booby traps, corpses, backpacks chock full of issues and wannabe lovers disguised as wannabe warriors. It is silly of you to love me because I will always be hung up on other things and I don't just mean the artist formally known as. I mean...I just mean...that I cannot be trusted with any more hearts. My heart (enter whine) has been through so much, but not nearly as much or as little as anyone else. I just don't feel like it. Simple. If you can love me, all my ickyness, all my everything, including my love for the artist formally known as, then maybe, just maybe you are safe to move onward Christian solider. I have always wanted to incorporate onward Christian solider into a blog, but I like the tone of onward Christine solider. Anyway, everyone, including my Dear Readers know not to read so hard into everything that I write, but you should because I do mean every word. I just need everyone to understand that I can be a bit much...more so in text then in person. Ready? Probably not. This does not lead into my next thought as I am not even sure of my next thought and I am truly typing this sentence to get there...nope...nothing. Hmmmmm, on wait...here is one....
On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know:
It has never been easy to be me (this is not a whine, this is real talk). It has never been easy being me but I have figured it out for the most part. While I am not a person with multiple personalities, I am a person with multiple thoughts going on at one time. I am absolutely never just being. My mind is never at rest. There are always thoughts (call them plots, if you may) going on. You really just think that I do things without pondering? You are so wrong. I am not a conniving person, but be damned if you think that I am not cool and calculating. See how I left out calm? I have been accused of being so calm that it looks like I don't care. An assumption has never made such a concentrated ass of itself as that. I am almost never calm, not even at rest. I am always on the verge of JUMP. This is why I blog. I need some way of directing traffic. I need some way of justifying the thoughts that continue to roam through me, haphazardly. If I don't, things will get way out of control. Or maybe not. I don't know...but what I do know is that I am stronger than you will ever know. It is not a single-handed feat, rather an all hands on deck effort. I can't really explain, or maybe I don't really want to, but rest assured, I am always one thought ahead, one action ahead, and etc and so on. This leads to my next thought (just following the near heart attack as my blog disappeared, thank you, dear undo arrow)...
On Why I am Not Easily Defeated:
I am not easily defeated not because I am an untouchable but because I simply don't care about things like other people do. Saying that I don't care may be a little abrasive and unnecessarily so, a better statement would be, I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't really worry about things like other people do. I don't really care that my white skirt has been stained by my favorite bag simply because it is my white skirt and my favorite bag and at sometime or another the two shall meet, maybe resulting in disaster. By the way, the artist formally known as took care of that stain and I do care that she cared enough. I think my view on what is most important does not align with what others see. That is precisely why I am not easily defeated. I know that some things that you do (please don't try to guess the identity of "you" as "you" refers to many) are purposely to hurt me. I also know that some things that you do are not meant to hurt me, rather meant to obtain your immediate gratification. I also know that some things that you do do not fall into either category, rather the gray area known as "Reasons You Are A Simple Bastid". The reason you can't really defeat me is my recovery time is mutantesque fast. Refer to On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know...with all the thoughts going through my head, do you honestly think I have time to dwell on anything for an extraordinary amount of time? Do you think breaking my heart is any different then my white skirt + favorite bag = stain (a removable one at that)? It is not. The reason I can look at one time serene and straight crazy eyed is because I am in constant recovery. Some recovery efforts include tears, of the hot stingy fashion, other recovery efforts include a dismissive eye roll. The point is, I will always be ok. The one thing that I have learned through the constant thought sort is that life is ridiculously short and I sweat nothing, not a skirt and certainly not the multitudes of you (again, do not try to identify the you).
Whew...there is more, but who could read beyond this point....and the artist formally know as is not awake. I must attend to wife business. Heeeh...that statement is going to get me off the counter and onto the burner, but again...white skirt + favorite bag = stain (and most stains can be removed). I must attend to Wife Business and let you (yes you, Dear Readers and you Others) on with your thoughts. Happy weekend, mine most certainly is.
A simple start,
Christine
Monday, July 9, 2012
Just Missed Monday
Dear Readers:
Hello!
I know it is Tuesday. I can tell you first off that it was my intention to post a blog on Monday. I had time all weekend to think about the subject matter of my blog and I believe it is a good one. You might be wondering why I am blogging after midnight (sorry, Monday...). I bet you are dying to know why.
Here is the running list of Why My Monday Blog is being Written on Tuesday:
1. I woke up this morning after a fitful sleep and could not find my laptop.
2. Since I wasted time looking for my laptop, I was rushing and dressed like a pauper with an attitude. (A poor attitude)
3. Once I got to work, I was informed that a teacher flew the coop.
4. My class was completely thrown off by the antics of the runaway teacher.
5. #3 & #4 caused complete chaos.
6. One of my favorite kids lost the title of Best Boy Note Taker and burst into tears, causing me to create a new title, Best Boy Reader. (only after he read me Silly Sally)
7. A new student decided to decorate her book cover with easter egg grass. Don't ask me where she found that shit.
8. I convinced the Best Boy Reader to walk carefully to lunch as he was my personal walker and should I fall, I would most certainly turn to dust.
9. I was offered (ie informed) that I would be absorbing the runaway teacher's students.
10. I arrived to grad class and realized that I actually was unable to read a week's worth of assignments in fifteen minutes.
11. I lost five hours of my life sitting in a grad class.
12. I arrived home to the suspects: a messy home and a lazy band of teenage pirates.
13. I cooked a gourmet meal for said pirates and devoured a chik'n patty off a fork (yes while standing).
14. I nearly drowned from exhaustion in the shower.
15. I cleared my bed (from Operation Throw Everything and Find that GODDAMN Laptop) and set up my lesson planning space. Did I mention I am teaching math and english now?
16. I sat for a moment contemplating my life. (approximately 9min)
17. At 10:30, I crawled into bed with a virgin margarita and started lesson planning for not just my 3rd & 4th graders, but the another teacher's 1st & 2nd graders.
18. Paid $20 for a subscription to a education site. Apparentely it is what ALL the teachers do. Funny, how no one thought to share their password.
19. At midnight I was done, or at least felt down with all the writing, swearing and tooth sucking that had transpired.
20. Decided that I would blog, AS it was the only thing that I really looked forward to for Monday, now Tuesday.
Dear Readers, that list is as detailed as I can recall. Note the as I can recall disclaimer...there was way more. Whatever, right?
Another disclaimer: There is no way in hell I am proofreading this blog. Please take it as is...especially since I have to be up and raring to go in about 6hrs.
Well my blog was about fairness, equality, yada yada.
Unfortunately, my eyes are burning and my heart is kind of oh I don't know, disappointed. Glory to Being Lola! (Morgan Freeman voice) As if that is a surprise. I thought I would get a phone call/text and that didn't come. Apparently silence is the approved method of communication for people who are too reflective to actually say a word.
As a blogger, I understand the reflection, but silence is kind of on the spectrum of dumb. Well maybe not dumb...but since I have not heard otherwise, I deduct as much.
All I know is when a conversation is broached, all parties should be involved in the give and take. Perhaps the conversation has been had with another party and I just missed my invite as I spent another Monday saving the free world.
So I don't really have anything pressing to add to the subject matter of fairness and equality. I mean I can say that it never feels good to be the last to know.
When something involves me, I deserve the same as all others. Perhaps the something simply does not involve me. Maybe I missed something.
You saw my list. It won't be the first time that I miss something. Folk stay telling me that I am missing the point. I don't really know what point because the minute I think I have the point, the point goes dull and there is another point that lo and behold, I missed.
Perhaps my path is too hectic for all this extra.
Last thought, I am rather furious that it is 12:34am and I still have not heard a peep from this phone. Dear Readers, I leave with the age old thought:
You never know what you had until it is gone.
I'm gone for now, but I will communicate with you all soon. I won't just leave you hanging and speculating and eye rolling and tooth sucking and whatnots...
That was a huge run-on sentence. (Damn the devil and cue the waah wah waaaaah)
I am a teacher and I approve this blog.
A simple start,
Lola
Hello!
I know it is Tuesday. I can tell you first off that it was my intention to post a blog on Monday. I had time all weekend to think about the subject matter of my blog and I believe it is a good one. You might be wondering why I am blogging after midnight (sorry, Monday...). I bet you are dying to know why.
Here is the running list of Why My Monday Blog is being Written on Tuesday:
1. I woke up this morning after a fitful sleep and could not find my laptop.
2. Since I wasted time looking for my laptop, I was rushing and dressed like a pauper with an attitude. (A poor attitude)
3. Once I got to work, I was informed that a teacher flew the coop.
4. My class was completely thrown off by the antics of the runaway teacher.
5. #3 & #4 caused complete chaos.
6. One of my favorite kids lost the title of Best Boy Note Taker and burst into tears, causing me to create a new title, Best Boy Reader. (only after he read me Silly Sally)
7. A new student decided to decorate her book cover with easter egg grass. Don't ask me where she found that shit.
8. I convinced the Best Boy Reader to walk carefully to lunch as he was my personal walker and should I fall, I would most certainly turn to dust.
9. I was offered (ie informed) that I would be absorbing the runaway teacher's students.
10. I arrived to grad class and realized that I actually was unable to read a week's worth of assignments in fifteen minutes.
11. I lost five hours of my life sitting in a grad class.
12. I arrived home to the suspects: a messy home and a lazy band of teenage pirates.
13. I cooked a gourmet meal for said pirates and devoured a chik'n patty off a fork (yes while standing).
14. I nearly drowned from exhaustion in the shower.
15. I cleared my bed (from Operation Throw Everything and Find that GODDAMN Laptop) and set up my lesson planning space. Did I mention I am teaching math and english now?
16. I sat for a moment contemplating my life. (approximately 9min)
17. At 10:30, I crawled into bed with a virgin margarita and started lesson planning for not just my 3rd & 4th graders, but the another teacher's 1st & 2nd graders.
18. Paid $20 for a subscription to a education site. Apparentely it is what ALL the teachers do. Funny, how no one thought to share their password.
19. At midnight I was done, or at least felt down with all the writing, swearing and tooth sucking that had transpired.
20. Decided that I would blog, AS it was the only thing that I really looked forward to for Monday, now Tuesday.
Dear Readers, that list is as detailed as I can recall. Note the as I can recall disclaimer...there was way more. Whatever, right?
Another disclaimer: There is no way in hell I am proofreading this blog. Please take it as is...especially since I have to be up and raring to go in about 6hrs.
Well my blog was about fairness, equality, yada yada.
Unfortunately, my eyes are burning and my heart is kind of oh I don't know, disappointed. Glory to Being Lola! (Morgan Freeman voice) As if that is a surprise. I thought I would get a phone call/text and that didn't come. Apparently silence is the approved method of communication for people who are too reflective to actually say a word.
As a blogger, I understand the reflection, but silence is kind of on the spectrum of dumb. Well maybe not dumb...but since I have not heard otherwise, I deduct as much.
All I know is when a conversation is broached, all parties should be involved in the give and take. Perhaps the conversation has been had with another party and I just missed my invite as I spent another Monday saving the free world.
So I don't really have anything pressing to add to the subject matter of fairness and equality. I mean I can say that it never feels good to be the last to know.
When something involves me, I deserve the same as all others. Perhaps the something simply does not involve me. Maybe I missed something.
You saw my list. It won't be the first time that I miss something. Folk stay telling me that I am missing the point. I don't really know what point because the minute I think I have the point, the point goes dull and there is another point that lo and behold, I missed.
Perhaps my path is too hectic for all this extra.
Last thought, I am rather furious that it is 12:34am and I still have not heard a peep from this phone. Dear Readers, I leave with the age old thought:
You never know what you had until it is gone.
I'm gone for now, but I will communicate with you all soon. I won't just leave you hanging and speculating and eye rolling and tooth sucking and whatnots...
That was a huge run-on sentence. (Damn the devil and cue the waah wah waaaaah)
I am a teacher and I approve this blog.
A simple start,
Lola
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
This Is The Worst Time To Blog
Dear Readers:
My mind and my heart are going in a million directions. I find that I am feeling one thing and saying another...saying one thing and feeling another. It is at the very least exhausting. I can't say to much because then I WILL SAY TOO MUCH. How exhausting is that?
There is no real answer. If Alice In Wonderland were I...ok, see I am not making any sense.
So why blog?
Why not?
Blogging centers me. It helps me to put things in prospective. It makes me happy, sometimes.
When I was younger, and I felt really sad, I always did the same thing. I knew that I would feel better if I cried. I was way ahead of the crowd. How many preteens know that tears make things all better? Maybe they do now, but I didn't have Pretty Little Liars. You don't learn to cry from Charles In Charge. Anyway.
I would go upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom with my tape player. I would turn off the overhead lights, because sometimes my Papa had McGruber'ed a light bulb near the mirror. I would turn on that bulb and set my tape to play Eric Carmen's All By Myself. I don't think anything else was on that tape. I recorded the song from Z100. I would put that song on, look in the mirror at my flushed cheeks and hope for answers. I would sing along with Eric and sure enough, I would start crying.
If you ever want to see something pathetic, watch a 12 year old sing along to a Eric Carmen while looking into a warped mirror with the aid of a naked light bulb.
That song still gets me. Just thinking about the lyrics, I feel sad for Eric and myself. I feel sad for twelve year old Christine, way before she ever became Lola. I think about the things that made me sad then, I don't really remember because I am sure that they are small potatoes at this point. Actually, I am sure that they were really important, those Sad Makers. They were just important to me then.
The Sad Makers now are also important. I know the power of a good cry. However, now as an adult (what a killjoy) I know that tears are powerful but they don't really do anything for the problem at hand. They handle all the physical manifestations of unhappiness. By physical, I mean that choked up, hot, heavy weepy feel. Tears generally relieve that pressure. However....
They don't really fix the problem, which is a BIGGER PROBLEM, because I am not 100% sure of what the problem is.
I know what I want.
I know what to do to get it, or some semblance of it.
I don't know if I am up for the job.
Everything takes work. I know this. The last year of The Life of Lola has been exhausting. My God, I don't want to complain. Many great things happened at a cost. That sounds like a complaint.
I should just shut the f%#$ up and go off to some quiet corner and f%#$ myself.
What is alarming is that this laptop is totally unreliable.
I am on a thin line between No and Oh Hell No and if this laptop dies on me.....
You know what, the issue is that I have no one to talk to, rather no one that I care to hear an opinion from so I just write. I just write and permanently air my shit out here. You can read or not read, you can even offer advice, but there is no pressure because I am not asking.
How can I ask for advice when I don't even know what I need?
I am tired of this new level of self-awareness. I kind of miss being oblivious. Sometimes people consider me naive. That would be such a treat. On the contrary, I am so damn aware.
I was this way at twelve, before I became Lola. I am this way now. I will probably be this way at forty...ie The Dawn of Change.
I swear that I won't feel this confused and discombobulated at forty, but who knows? I said the same shit at the following ages:
18 talking about 20
25 talking about 30
31 talking and 35
and now 36 talking about 40
Each time I get closer to an answer, I think because I become more aware of my life ending. I don't want my life to end on this note. I don't want to take my last breath wondering what if, swearing at the why...
I can't say I am near my last breath. I mean for the most part I eat right and take great care of my health. However, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that if something should cause my demise, and I be aware of it, I will have some damning thoughts.
How does a person live life to the fullest? There is so much that I need to do, and eventually someone to do it with. I mean, it is possible to do things on my own. For the most part, I do things on my own. I would like someone to share things with.
Today for instance, we wore moustaches in an Italian restaurant. At the time I joked that it could be crossed off my bucket list. It was not REALLY on my bucket list, but I feel like it has gained the notoriety.
Whatever.
I think so much. I feel so much. How do the shallow do it? There are people out there, by their actions I concur that they don't feel nearly as much as I do. That seems so simplified.
How do the YOLO people do it? So during my sabbatical from work I have become really learned in hip hop and YOLO is a catchy song. You only live once, that's the motto of YOLO....lol. There is no LOL in the song, but I laughed the first time I caught myself singing along.
Maybe I need to write a list. I am not really a list person. My ex loooooooves lists. In fact the ex before her did too....as does the person I am seeing now. Sheesh...what is it about me that attracts List Makers?
Trust me, I am not someone who works well with a List Maker. They loooove plans, I can't say that I do. I think that I give them relieve from their hectic lives....kind of like Aruba. No one wants to stay in Aruba forever. Trust me, they don't.
Again...this is the worst time to blog. It is the worst because I have so much to say, so little to resolve, and no one to talk to, really, without just digging my own hole.
I have dug myself into such a ditch as it is.
Perhaps I can just be content that this is my life and I need to plan for my next one. I want to believe in reincarnation because I have screwed up so much of my past thirty-six years.
Please don't tell me to start now. Better living is just like changing your eating habits. It is not enough to go on a diet. It is all or nothing.
Right now I am not ready for all or nothing.
I don't know what I want. Well I do.
I know that it is unattainable. Maybe I am being stubborn.
I am not afraid of the unknown. I said I don't make lists, shoot MY EVERY MOMENT IS THE UNKNOWN.
LOL.
I am just tired and I don't want to give up.
Again..this is the worst time to blog. It is too late. I have a long day tomorrow.
Not only do I have an emotion for every occasion, I have an excuse to weather the emotion.
Wow.
Did I waste your time? I am sorry. Let me promise to you and myself, Dear Readers, that the next time it is The Worst Time to Blog that I stay the fuck away from the keys.
A Simple Start,
Lola
My mind and my heart are going in a million directions. I find that I am feeling one thing and saying another...saying one thing and feeling another. It is at the very least exhausting. I can't say to much because then I WILL SAY TOO MUCH. How exhausting is that?
There is no real answer. If Alice In Wonderland were I...ok, see I am not making any sense.
So why blog?
Why not?
Blogging centers me. It helps me to put things in prospective. It makes me happy, sometimes.
When I was younger, and I felt really sad, I always did the same thing. I knew that I would feel better if I cried. I was way ahead of the crowd. How many preteens know that tears make things all better? Maybe they do now, but I didn't have Pretty Little Liars. You don't learn to cry from Charles In Charge. Anyway.
I would go upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom with my tape player. I would turn off the overhead lights, because sometimes my Papa had McGruber'ed a light bulb near the mirror. I would turn on that bulb and set my tape to play Eric Carmen's All By Myself. I don't think anything else was on that tape. I recorded the song from Z100. I would put that song on, look in the mirror at my flushed cheeks and hope for answers. I would sing along with Eric and sure enough, I would start crying.
If you ever want to see something pathetic, watch a 12 year old sing along to a Eric Carmen while looking into a warped mirror with the aid of a naked light bulb.
That song still gets me. Just thinking about the lyrics, I feel sad for Eric and myself. I feel sad for twelve year old Christine, way before she ever became Lola. I think about the things that made me sad then, I don't really remember because I am sure that they are small potatoes at this point. Actually, I am sure that they were really important, those Sad Makers. They were just important to me then.
The Sad Makers now are also important. I know the power of a good cry. However, now as an adult (what a killjoy) I know that tears are powerful but they don't really do anything for the problem at hand. They handle all the physical manifestations of unhappiness. By physical, I mean that choked up, hot, heavy weepy feel. Tears generally relieve that pressure. However....
They don't really fix the problem, which is a BIGGER PROBLEM, because I am not 100% sure of what the problem is.
I know what I want.
I know what to do to get it, or some semblance of it.
I don't know if I am up for the job.
Everything takes work. I know this. The last year of The Life of Lola has been exhausting. My God, I don't want to complain. Many great things happened at a cost. That sounds like a complaint.
I should just shut the f%#$ up and go off to some quiet corner and f%#$ myself.
What is alarming is that this laptop is totally unreliable.
I am on a thin line between No and Oh Hell No and if this laptop dies on me.....
You know what, the issue is that I have no one to talk to, rather no one that I care to hear an opinion from so I just write. I just write and permanently air my shit out here. You can read or not read, you can even offer advice, but there is no pressure because I am not asking.
How can I ask for advice when I don't even know what I need?
I am tired of this new level of self-awareness. I kind of miss being oblivious. Sometimes people consider me naive. That would be such a treat. On the contrary, I am so damn aware.
I was this way at twelve, before I became Lola. I am this way now. I will probably be this way at forty...ie The Dawn of Change.
I swear that I won't feel this confused and discombobulated at forty, but who knows? I said the same shit at the following ages:
18 talking about 20
25 talking about 30
31 talking and 35
and now 36 talking about 40
Each time I get closer to an answer, I think because I become more aware of my life ending. I don't want my life to end on this note. I don't want to take my last breath wondering what if, swearing at the why...
I can't say I am near my last breath. I mean for the most part I eat right and take great care of my health. However, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that if something should cause my demise, and I be aware of it, I will have some damning thoughts.
How does a person live life to the fullest? There is so much that I need to do, and eventually someone to do it with. I mean, it is possible to do things on my own. For the most part, I do things on my own. I would like someone to share things with.
Today for instance, we wore moustaches in an Italian restaurant. At the time I joked that it could be crossed off my bucket list. It was not REALLY on my bucket list, but I feel like it has gained the notoriety.
Whatever.
I think so much. I feel so much. How do the shallow do it? There are people out there, by their actions I concur that they don't feel nearly as much as I do. That seems so simplified.
How do the YOLO people do it? So during my sabbatical from work I have become really learned in hip hop and YOLO is a catchy song. You only live once, that's the motto of YOLO....lol. There is no LOL in the song, but I laughed the first time I caught myself singing along.
Maybe I need to write a list. I am not really a list person. My ex loooooooves lists. In fact the ex before her did too....as does the person I am seeing now. Sheesh...what is it about me that attracts List Makers?
Trust me, I am not someone who works well with a List Maker. They loooove plans, I can't say that I do. I think that I give them relieve from their hectic lives....kind of like Aruba. No one wants to stay in Aruba forever. Trust me, they don't.
Again...this is the worst time to blog. It is the worst because I have so much to say, so little to resolve, and no one to talk to, really, without just digging my own hole.
I have dug myself into such a ditch as it is.
Perhaps I can just be content that this is my life and I need to plan for my next one. I want to believe in reincarnation because I have screwed up so much of my past thirty-six years.
Please don't tell me to start now. Better living is just like changing your eating habits. It is not enough to go on a diet. It is all or nothing.
Right now I am not ready for all or nothing.
I don't know what I want. Well I do.
I know that it is unattainable. Maybe I am being stubborn.
I am not afraid of the unknown. I said I don't make lists, shoot MY EVERY MOMENT IS THE UNKNOWN.
LOL.
I am just tired and I don't want to give up.
Again..this is the worst time to blog. It is too late. I have a long day tomorrow.
Not only do I have an emotion for every occasion, I have an excuse to weather the emotion.
Wow.
Did I waste your time? I am sorry. Let me promise to you and myself, Dear Readers, that the next time it is The Worst Time to Blog that I stay the fuck away from the keys.
A Simple Start,
Lola
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